Shirtlessness
by indigowaterbears
Summary: Jackson realized he'd been motionlessly standing there too long when, looking up, he found blue eyes staring back at him. Amelia Shepherd was sitting at the kitchen counter in a shirt, one of Owen's shirts. Only in Owen's shirt.
It was way too early in the morning for anything more than opening his eyes barely enough to distinguish shapes, sitting up fighting the incessant and relentless urge to lay back down and walking to the bathroom – something that couldn't described as more than stumbling – without hitting doors or furniture. Jackson cursed himself for not closing the blinds last night. He'd meant to, but once he fell asleep on the couch the first time, not wanting to wake up feeling as if he'd slept on the floor, he'd just made his way to his room, falling into bed without even setting his alarm. It turns out the alarm wasn't needed at all, his room faced east and he now knew why Owen had picked the other one. Also, the other one came with a bigger, comfier bed. Not that he'd tried it, but he knew. This was temporary, he'd told himself, just until he'd get to figuring out where the hell his life was headed now. This was definitely better than Bailey and Ben's couch, a lot better. Owen was quiet, reserved and kept a tidy, clean place. Jackson fit in well.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what he found once he completed the thirty two steps journey to the kitchen. In fact, he had to rub his eyes, blink a few times, kick sleep out of his system before he had a chance to process what was before him. At the kitchen counter sat Amelia Shepherd. Jackson, not one for gossiping, had no idea what was going on in here. Yet, suddenly, a lot made sense. It made sense why when April had left the first time with Owen, she had looked as bad as he did. He'd chalked it up to her brother dying at the time, but living knowing the love of your life is on the other side of the world, a second away from running into an ambush, stepping on a bomb, being shot at, looked different. It left a haunted look in your eyes, hollow cheeks, muscles so tense they felt constantly about to snap. It wasn't the dead brother thing at all. In the few weeks he'd spent here, though, he hadn't seen her once. Not once. Not for dinner, not for a movie, not for sex. He was also pretty sure Owen had spent all his time away from the apartment at the hospital – he was, after all, in charge of the board, some things he just knew.

For a few seconds he just stood there, feet planted on the threshold of the wooden arch, staring at her. Amelia was going through a magazine, spinning her mug of smoking coffee with one hand, she was so wrapped up in whatever she was reading she hadn't noticed him standing right there. Maybe, then, there was still time to escape the awkward fest this was going to be. Jackson realized he'd been motionlessly standing there too long when, looking up, he found blue eyes staring back at him.

Deer in the headlights.

What was worse, he had not noticed what she was wearing. Apparently, the ring on his finger had that kind of blinding power. Amelia Shepherd was sitting at the kitchen counter in a shirt, one of Owen's shirts. Only in Owen's shirt. If he thought it was going to be awkward before, now the scale was amplified tenfold. She gave him a lopsided smile, turning back to her apparently captivating read.

"Coffee's made. I was about to make something, if you're hungry." She offered casually without looking away from the page.

Taking a step in her direction – coffee's direction – he stopped again, memories of the infamous dinner party coming to the surface, making the incredibly appealing offer sound… like he was going to pick up something on the way to the hospital. "I'm fine. Thanks, though."

Amelia looked up at him, narrowing her eyes as he made his way, much in a sloth like fashion, to the coffee pot, pouring some in one of the mugs near the sink. "Just so you know, I make the best waffles. From scratch." While he wasn't looking at her, she knew she'd struck a nerve. She'd been around enough men to know that their stomach was the right way to get to them. "According to Alex at least. He switched one of his shifts to come to breakfast."

The grumble of his stomach was loud enough that he hung his head a little. "You're pushy."

"Yup. But I'm right." She smirked, hopping off the counter stool, moving around the kitchen like she'd been here so many times before. Maybe she had. Maybe he just didn't know.

It was about half an hour later that Owen made his way into the kitchen, wearing jeans and an old, washed-away, Harvard t-shirt. He was everywhere, fidgeting, looking as if he had fire ants in his pants. After briefly taking in his surroundings, he pointed an accusing finger at Amelia. "I need that shirt."

Amelia and Jackson were sitting at the counter munching on waffles. He got the 'Alex dose', which apparently was barely enough. She'd declined any responsibility in case he decided to fish one out of Owen's plate. Both looked up, but Jackson had his back to him and couldn't see him from behind the fridge. "Morning." Amelia said in a dry tone that had the power to whip Owen up, his whole demeanor changing in the matter of seconds. From slightly annoyed he was now looking meek and submissive.

Owen tilted his head, smiling at her. "Morning. I need the shirt you are wearing. Please."

"You have tons of shirts." Amelia huffed, "can't you just get another one?"

Sighing in a zen attempt to gather all his patience to deal with her evergreen childish streak, Owen took a step forward. "How about I get you your shirt?" as soon as he stepped around he saw Jackson sitting right next to her on the counter, body turned around to face her, mirroring her position. "Maybe some pants too?" he said turning beet red all of a sudden.

The fact that his shirt looked so good on Amelia, so much better than he could ever hope to look in it, had him smiling like an idiot seconds earlier. It was large enough that on her tiny form it looked enormous, the contrast between his large build and her petite body was always a turn on – he knew for her too. The way she was sitting, though, the shirt had ridden up her legs, coming up to mid-thigh, almost showing all of her legs. It was buttoned way too high, for his taste, but he could just fix that little problem by taking it off her entirely. That was, in fact, the first thing he thought upon catching sight of her in the kitchen, walk right up to her and take his shirt off her and put it on, which would have led to something completely counterproductive in regards of getting dressed. On hindsight, he was glad he still hadn't had a chance to have his morning coffee and was a little slower than usual.

Now that he thought of it, the shirt looked amazing on Amelia and never wanted her to take it off. Especially not in front of Jackson Avery. Not in front of any other man.

Amelia, who had already had her morning coffee and her second morning coffee, was wide awake and readily receptive. She did not miss the way his skin had turned red or how he suddenly looked like he might give her his pants as well to cover up. The tension in the room, the one Owen was generating with his fidgety hands and twitchy lips, was spreading to all three of them. Jackson, who had just been sitting there, observing the exchange mutely, now looked his own shade of red, hoping they'd either stop it or take it somewhere else. Amelia had zero interested in trying to alleviate it and, instead, she smirked mischievously at Jackson before turning to Owen.

"That won't be necessary." She said casually as she dropped her fork in her plate, brushing her hands together, getting rid of the crumbs. "I'll just give it to you, if you really, really want this one." With that, her hands went to the top button, undoing it before either man could even make out what she was doing. In a split second, she was on the one about two inches lower and then on the other one further down.

By the time Owen's brain kicked into gear, eyes inevitably stuck on the expending patch of skin she was freeing up, she was down to the fourth button. "Okay, okay stop." He urged her, putting his hand on top of hers, stopping her.

Amelia cocked an eyebrow up at him, never forgetting there was another set of his curiously witnessing whatever was going on. "How is putting your hand on my boobs going to help you get the shirt?"

Owen was growing annoyed and flustered and… and he was starting to feel the urge to grab her and lock her back in their bedroom and never leave. Away from Jackson Avery and away from everyone else. "Amelia." He warned her.

"Owen." She responded in a mock imitation of his scolding parent tone, instead of the frustration in his voice hers was husky and low. "Do you want the shirt or not?"

The awkwardness in the room, especially Jackson's growing uneasiness, suddenly turned into stifled laughter as Owen's face did something neither Amelia or him had ever seen before on the Major's face. Not only the blush was now a permanent feature on his face, but his muscles twitched rhythmically and he kept opening and closing his mouth without saying anything, amusing Jackson and making Amelia grow more and more satisfied with her teasing.

Owen closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, reorganizing his thoughts. "Yes." He confirmed looking right into her eyes, but as Amelia started working on the next button, he stopped her again. "No! No, it's fine, you can keep it."

"Will you please make up your mind?" Amelia asked in a slightly exasperated voice, testing how far she could take this, willing to go all the way for the little fun it turned out to be. Had it been just the two of them, this would have already ended with her not wearing anything and him not wearing anything either, but the addition of Jackson made for an endlessly more interesting morning.

Owen looked into Amelia's eyes, long and deep, hoping to convey with a look just how much she was trying his patience, not wanting to utter the words – any words. Amelia, being Amelia, stared back just as intensely, not willing to give up that easily. It went on for a while – long enough that the amusement in the air turned to awkwardness again and Jackson feebly tried to put an end to this. "Guys…"

"You know what, Amelia?" Owen started, a knowing smile slowly forming on his lips as he held her gaze. "I actually do want the shirt, if you were so kind to give it to me."

He meant right there, right then and Amelia knew instantly it was a test. Owen was trying to see if she would just take it off in front of him or not and she was so up to the challenge. Obviously, Owen had never heard of Hurricane Amelia. With a matching smile she looked down, calculating how my buttons she could undo without giving Jackson a complete free show and then looked back up to Owen. Without looking away her fingers went to work on the first down the line – already half way down her sternum – unbuttoning a couple without stopping. Owen's eyes bore into hers, daring her to go on and undress before one of their colleagues, not even one either was particularly close to. The second the shirt opened up almost entirely on her front, Owen stepped between Jackson and her.

"This has gone far enough, don't you think?" he asked Amelia, a more serious tone putting a dent in her fun.

In the midst of their exchange Jackson had sat mutely, intrigued and afraid what him moving could mean – he really, really didn't want to walk in on them having sex on the kitchen counter. "Yeah, I should… probably, uh, go to my-"

"Don't bother." Amelia huffed, hopping off her stool. "I'm leaving."

It was a blur of movement and before either man could say or do anything, she was half way out of the kitchen. It took about a second, a bit more than his usual reaction time, for Owen to realize that maybe he'd gone too far when she was just messing around with him. Before he could even think if he should say anything, the much contended shirt flew right to his face. He grabbed it and looked at it for a moment too long until he raised his eyes catching Amelia take the last couple steps into his bedroom, shutting the door behind her – completely naked. Shock must have been evident on his face, because when he turned to Jackson he was desperately trying to hold back his laughter, turned the opposite way Amelia had gone.

Owen looked a couple of times between him and the door of his bedroom, thoughts clouded by what he knew was on the other side. "I, uh… I have to – I should…"

"Just go." Jackson managed to say before bursting out in loud belly laughs at the way his morning started. This would score him major coffee break talk points today.


End file.
